


The Conscience of the King

by Mina Lightstar (ukefied)



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukefied/pseuds/Mina%20Lightstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terra, Edgar, and honey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Conscience of the King

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 2009.

Even Figaro Castle, the oasis of civilization amidst a vast desert, is dark and foreboding once night has fallen. Terra Branford shivers as a chill creeps up her spine, and tightens the cloak she stole from her guest-room. Her boots click against the stone floors, echoing down the halls -- so loud in the darkness.

There are hardly any guards on duty, she notices. The ones who are look alert, but laid-back. They don't spare her a second glance as she wanders the halls -- well, one does.

"Are you all right, my lady?" he inquires.

She bristles almost without knowing why. _I haven't had much luck with guards lately..._ "I'm fine," she replies. "I just can't sleep."

"Understandable," the sentry agrees. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you," Terra bows her head and takes her leave of him. She pushes her way back inside, where it's a little warmer, and walks the softly-illuminated inner halls. She feels a little hungry, and decides to search for the kitchen. She doesn't remember where the kitchen was situated in the Imperial Palace.

She doesn't -- remember much from the Imperial Palace.

The torches that intermittently line the walls provide her with enough light by which to determine her path. She doesn't know how far she wanders, but is somewhat surprised when she finds herself in the castle dungeon.

She's further surprised to find King Edgar Roni Figaro sitting alone in the torchlight. Well, not alone.

"Who's there?" he demands, looking up from his contemplations. "Oh, Terra," he sounds taken aback, but not angry, "whatever brings you down here?"

She feels colder; do the prisoners sleep like this each night? "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I'm actually looking for the kitchen."

"Is that your witch?" someone to Edgar's left jeers. "Have you become so desperate that you're going after the arcane?"

Terra blinks. She has never been heckled by a jailed criminal before. Has she?

"Watch your mouth in front of the lady," is Edgar's stern warning. "Or perhaps you'll spend the rest of your life in here." As he gives the threat, Edgar walks toward her. With a bow and an offer of his arm, he proceeds to lead her away from the dungeon.

"What were you doing in there?" she asks as they climb the stairs. Her memory may be failing her, but she is fairly certain that kings do not normally associate with the riff-raff of their prisons.

"Do they frighten you?" Edgar wonders.

"Very little frightens me," Terra says. After a moment's pause, she adds, "Very much confuses me, however. I think I'd rather be scared than confused -- at least I would finally understand..."

"Understand what?" Edgar prompts when she trails off, but when Terra shakes her head, he veers onto a tangent. "Well, it's good that you aren't afraid. Those men, they have only made some wrong choices. Compared to what's really happening out there, they're nothing."

Terra considers the king's profile. "And yet you jail them."

"Of course. They broke Figaro's laws. But, that doesn't mean they cannot be rehabilitated once they've served the terms of their punishments. Some may not, some may -- some simply did something stupid and now they are paying for it."

Terra shrugs; she doesn't really feel like discussing the life choices made by thugs at this point in her life. "Why do you sit with them?"

Edgar doesn't answer her right away. "Petyr," he greets a guard at the top of the stairs. "They're all yours."

"Yes, Your Majesty." With a salute, the guard squeezes by them and heads to his post.

"I sit with them," Edgar continues, "because there are many kinds of men on this earth. You don't learn anything about them by keeping your distance, and you will never understand them if you don't make an effort to listen to their stories."

"Some may not want to speak of themselves," Terra points out. She can smell remnants of spices; the kitchen and her belated dinner are near. "Some may not want you near them."

"Ah," Edgar muses, "but at the very least, I have established an open communication."

"Why do you really sit with them?" Terra demands as they enter the castle kitchen. "You really want to see into the hearts of criminals, murderers? To understand them?" As much as she doesn't need the added burden of Edgar on her hands, she has to admit that she is mildly perplexed. King Edgar also seems keen on giving aid to known Imperial soldiers....

Edgar unlocks their arms and gives her a grin. "I met Locke in that same dungeon."

"Really?!" Despite herself, Terra finds this news surprising, and the knowledge brings a smile to her face. "But, Locke's a treasure hunter -- or so he tells me," she adds in the face of Edgar's amused expression.

"Well," the king laughs, "the thing about hunting for treasure is that the object of your search isn't _yours_." He turns and procures some sweetbread for her. "Would you like some tea or honey?"

"Both, please," she confesses, sheepish. In accordance, her stomach rumbles, voicing its hunger.

Edgar putters around the large kitchen with confidence, and Terra decides she likes this hands-on kind of man. She feels she can tell what sort of person he is just by watching him look after his guest. Soon, Edgar ushers her to a tiny table in the kitchen -- probably meant for setting servings for servants to carry into the dining room -- and presents her with a late-night snack of sweetbread, butter, honey, and Figorian tea. It smells delicious, and tastes even better. Terra savors the rich, fluffy bread-and-honey, and washes it down with hot, cinnamon tea. All the while, Edgar sits across from her and watches -- but Terra is strangely not bothered by this attention; there is no hint of his previous flirtations.

"Thank you, Edgar," she says once she's finished. "That was delicious."

"I made it myself," he jokes, and then even proceeds to clean up after her.

"I can--" she starts, but already knows better. So she watches him clear away her dishes and wipe the table.

"Think you can get some rest now?" he asks.

"Yes, I should be fine." She pushes up from her chair and bows her head to him. "Thank you, again."

"Don't be ridiculous." Edgar spreads his arms and flashes her a dashing smile. "I make it my business to assure ladies are comfortable in my home."

Terra cocks her head, considers him, and ventures, "Even Imperial ladies?"

"Even Imperial ladies," Edgar assures her. "I told you, we're allies."

_Locke told me differently._ But in either case, Edgar may very well be on her side. "Where is Locke?"

"Probably raiding my bedroom," Edgar dismisses off-handedly. "Or loitering somewhere. Perhaps the library."

"Library?" Terra almost-balks. Though she has known him only a short while, he does not seem the type.

"Hmm," Edgar replies, "his lifestyle doesn't allow for much reading, so he likes to catch up whenever he gets the time. For practice, as much as leisure. Would you like to go see him?"

"Oh, no." But she feels better knowing where her one true ally is. "I was just curious."

They leave the kitchen, and Edgar proceeds to walk Terra back to her room. "Terra," he says, quiet even in the silent halls, "my father taught me not to give up on those who have lost their way."

Her breath catches, but she says nothing. She isn't sure if she should reveal that she knows some of this story -- _An estranged twin brother..._

"Not criminals accused of petty crimes, not adventurous rapscallions with a penchant for stealing pies off windowsills, and not former Imperial soldiers who are looking for direction."

"You will show them the way, then?"

"Most importantly, I will offer them help." Edgar opens her door for her, and bows from the hip. "Whether or not they accept is, of course, entirely up to them."

Terra drops her gaze, finds herself wondering about this young king. She knows he is good-hearted; this is obvious. But now, she -- "You're a good person, King Edgar." _A wonderful king._

"Thank you, Terra. But, please call me Edgar. No need to be so formal. And please," he adds once she has crossed her threshold, "feel free to stay and recover as long as you like. You're safe here."

"I know I am," she assures him, and gives him a tiny smile. "But thank you for affirming it."

They say goodnight, and Terra shuts her door. Alone in the darkness, having shut out the candlelight, Terra takes a deep breath. Maybe she will be able to sleep now. Confusion continues to plague her thoughts, but she is able to push the demon aside. First, she needs real rest -- rest she can have, now that she knows she has allies: a friendly treasure hunter, and a king with a conscience that is almost too good.

Fortunately, the man is as good as the conscience.

end


End file.
